letting go

I've been stalling a farewell the entire week. This afternoon however I could no longer derail the inevitable. It all started when my friend Wadilkhaery sent me an SMS last Sunday asking if I still have a kitten available for sale or adoption.

"Yes, I have a male kitten, light orange, almost four months old."

An hour later, a deal was struck with a potential buyer. "Can you deliver the kitten tomorrow?" Wadilkhaery asked.

"I'm sorry, I'm going out of town," I answered. The truth was the out-of-town trip was scheduled Tuesday. I just wanted time to be with my little kitty cat.

As soon as I arrived from my trip Tuesday evening, I received a text message from Wadilkhaery. "Are you back?" I didn't reply. The text messages kept arriving Wednesday. I ignored them.

Thursday afternoon, I received a text message from an unregistered number. It came from the potential buyer. It turned out that he was the Starstruck Teen Survivor Chuck Ali. I didn't text him. Wadilkaery sent me messages even until late in the morning. He tried to call me but again, I ignored them.

But when Friday afternoon came I mustered all my strength and courage. I am an honorable man, I know how to keep my word. I decided that it was time to bring the kitty cat to its new owner. Aboard the taxi to the meeting place -Wadilkhaery's Zabadani Cafe- I stroked the kitty cat for the last time. I couldn't help but cry. I was already attached to the playful little cat. I didn't want to let him go. We already named him Rashid, because we thought we wouldn't be parting with him anymore.

He kept meowing during the 15-minute trip, as though he was telling me "I don't want to go." But I told myself it was for his own good. I patted his head. "Be good, kitty cat."

As the taxi slowed down in front of the cafe, I swallowed a big one, suppressed another tear, and told myself to be brave. This is not going to be goodbye.